


Soy Venti Latte

by PickledDeath



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledDeath/pseuds/PickledDeath
Summary: Jason is a sassy barista working in an alternative coffee shop and Bruce is a lonely wealthy philanthropist. Both of them have a soulmark with no mate, having missed their chance to meet each other over a decade ago.
A chance meeting at a cafe gives them a chance to reconnect. (Gift for the Batfam Christmas Exchange)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vodka112](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/gifts).



> This is a gift for the Batfam Christmas Exchange. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to make both the ABO and soulmate AU jive, so I just made this a soulmate AU. I have plans do the band prompt too and work the ABO AU into that instead.
> 
> Original Prompt: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Age Difference. Coffeeshop AU. Soulmate AU is a bonus. Hurt/comfort but more on comfort. Squeeze in lots of good feels if you can. Pairing ending up together at end of fic.
> 
> Jason works at a coffee shop close to --University where Dick goes to. Serves coffee to this posh git who's too busy looking at his phone to check his order. Gives awesome tips but still douchey. Can be as porny as you want, or as gen as you want, as long as there are cuddles and/or overly romantic stuff.
> 
> NO Underage sex. NO allusions to rape, please. Keep allusions to child abuse/abuse to a minimum. There are lots of other stuff that can cause hurt without it being caused by another human being. Ex, Jason is dealing with a parent who has cancer, or he got in an accident that gave him a disability. Thank you. ^^

**** Jason was eleven years old when his soulmark appeared on his skin.

He was so young and had spoken so little with his mother about what a soulmark was and what it meant that, when he felt the tingling on his neck, all he did was give it a stiff scratch and continue on his way. It wasn’t until he returned home late that night to be greeted by his mother’s surprised cry and tearful explanation that he understood what had happened.

Soulmarks worked like this, he was told. When you finally touch your soul mate for the first time, skin to skin, a mark would appear on your skin followed by what some describe as a tingle, others as a  burn or an itch. In most cases, the marks matched exactly in size, shape, color and placement on the body. However, there were cases where the marks were complementary instead of being exactly the same. In much rarer cases, marks don’t match at all, despite appearing at the same time. They were not always unique, either, meaning that multiple people could have the same mark. A lot of people’s marks were a heart or some riff on the heart motif. Others had something significant that drew them together (paw prints, images of places, or things) marked on their skin. Still more just simple geometric shapes.

Jason had been on a busy city street when he felt the itching. He was picking pockets and had been loathe to admit as much to his mother, but had eventually done so at her insistence. So, he had been touching people. Lots of people. Because the itching on his neck hadn’t meant anything to him, he didn’t remember who he had recently touched or where he was when he did so.

The mark he had been left with was a simple black line that encircled his neck like a delicate collar, about the width of a number 2 pencil.

It didn’t settle in on him until that night when he was trying and failing to sleep by his mother’s side on his small single bed what had happened. He had missed his chance to meet his soulmate. His mark was so simple that it would be difficult to find the person with his match, if it was a match.

He understood then that he would be alone forever.

* * *

By the time that Jason was in his second year of college, the mark on his neck was more of an annoyance than a reminder of something precious long lost.

He didn’t get so many questions about it anymore, not since he started to add to the number of marks on his skin. Black ink etched into pale scar marked skin muddied the waters for anyone trying to find his mark. He had stars and hearts, words and images, all written across his arms and chest and shoulders. He had started to get them as soon as he turned 18 and had found that a lot of people like him, people with a soulmark but no soulmate, enjoyed the same willful marking of their own skin.

Even though his soulmark was now just one of many marks left on his skin, it still twinged every once in awhile as if his soul was trying to remind him that it was still broken.

Jason rubbed at his neck in distraction as a man in a sharp business suit approached the counter. He looked out of place in the shabby little college coffee shop that Jason had been working at since he started at Gotham University. His expertly tailored dove gray suit clashed with the worn arm chairs and duct taped bean bag chairs strewn around the lounge area.

“What can I do you for?” Jason drawled, trying his best to keep his interest off his face. Obviously, he was a parent or a relative of one of the students. He was too old and rich looking to be a student, but looked vaguely familiar. Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen the man before, even if he was sure he would have remembered him if he did.

“Soy venti latte,” the man said shortly, barely sparing Jason a glance as he continued to hold his cellphone his ear. The man in the suit pulled a slick looking clear plastic card out of an inside pocket of his jacket and laid it on the scratched counter top.

“Yes, sir,” Jason muttered vaguely, picking the card up gingerly between two fingers and swiping it through their card reader. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the credit line on the card was higher than a year of tuition for him.

When he was done running the card, Jason handed it back to the man and began to open his mouth to ask for a name. But, the man just took the card back and walked away from the counter without another word.

Jason raised an imperious eyebrow and muttered a surly, “You’re welcome,” before moving off behind the counter to start putting the latte together.

He started the espresso before moving toward the milk and running it through the steam wand. He pondered where he might have seen the businessman before. Maybe he had seen him without the suit before and that was what was throwing him off.

Jason glanced out over the counter at the man now standing to the side still talking into his cellphone. Jason would have to guess that he was somewhere between 30 and 40. It was hard to tell, because his face looked so stern that he kept thinking that maybe he was overestimating his age. He did have some distinguished looking gray at his temples, so Jason guessed he had to be in his thirties, at the least.

The espresso machine dinged to indicate it was done so Jason poured the steamed soy milk over the espresso and whisked it quickly with a stirring wand. He considered briefly drawing something cute in the milk, maybe a heart or a leaf, just to see how the guy would react, but discarded the idea. He had been working at the shop for a while and felt comfortable in his position, but didn’t especially want to get any complaints against him. There was a lot of competition for a job like this near a college campus.

“Soy latte!” Jason called out, putting the large cup onto the counter. He didn’t stop to make sure the man came and got it, instead turning back to the steam wand behind him and starting to clean it off with a nearby rag.

However, he did watch over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but be curious.

He watched the man pause in whatever he was saying to the person on the phone to take a drink from the paper cup. The man grimaced and Jason had to hide his huff of laughter in his shoulder. He wondered what it was that the man didn’t like. Was the ratio of milk to espresso wrong? Was the soy milk not up to his usual quality (admittedly, even Jason didn’t think the brand they got was that good)? Or, maybe it was just hot and the guy wasn’t ready for it.

If Jason thought the guy might eventually become a regular, he would ask him what he thought and make sure to adjust it next time he came in. He knew how all his regulars liked their orders. It was what made him popular with the customers and worth all his shit talking to his boss. But, Jason doubted that he would ever see the businessman again. At least, probably not this semester.

Despite the pointed grimace, Jason watched the man dig around in his pockets for a wad of cash that he stuffed into the tip jar that had a note that said ‘help send my cat to ninja school’ taped to the front of it. It had been Steph’s turn to write the tip jar note that month.

The man took a few more pained sips of his coffee before turning and striding out of the shop in a swirl of his finely tailored coat.

Jason praised himself for waiting until the door swung shut behind the man before running up to the counter and digging in the tip jar. He pulled out a pair of twenties that definitely hadn’t been mixed in with the ones and change before.

“Holy shit,” Jason breathed.

* * *

Bruce was twenty-three when he got his soulmark.

At that time, all his friends who were around his age had already found their soulmate or were actively looking for them with the kind of starry eyed anticipation that only rich young people could. Bruce remembered that he himself was on a date with a very lovely and mysterious young woman when he felt a sharp burn on his wrist. When he pulled up his sleeve to check his left arm, he found a thick black band wrapping itself around his arm just above his wrist.

For a long time, he was convinced that the woman he was with, Selina Kyle, was his soulmate and was, for some unfathomable reason, pretending not to have developed a mark herself. It took years until it finally sunk in that it wasn’t her, even though she was with him when it happened.

He had been on a busy city street in downtown Gotham at the time and there were people all around him. As tragic as it was, he had to finally admit to himself that he had probably bumped into his soulmate on the street and both of them continued on their way without ever acknowledging the other. He had seen plots like that in bad romance movies, but never could have imagined that it might happen to him.

Most days, Bruce hid the mark underneath expensive watches and starched shirt cuffs. As often as he could, he tried to forget about the mark. But, every once in awhile it would twinge, as if trying to remind him of the chance at happiness he had missed.

* * *

When Dick decided to transfer from California University to Gotham University in his final year of college, it was the kind of victory that Bruce never could have anticipated. He and his foster son had grown apart by the time Dick had turned 18. When Dick had chosen to attend college all the way on the other side of the country, it had felt like the final defeat.

Determined not to let Dick drift away again, Bruce was pushing himself to initiate contact as much as he could. That was how he ended up in a painfully alternative looking coffee shop just off of the college campus that Dick had mentioned the last time they spoke on the phone.

The shop was small, wedged behind two larger shops with beautifully decorated picture windows. The door to the shop led to a long hallway that let out into a surprisingly large shop with the kind of relaxed atmosphere that only could appeal to rebellious young people. There were bad art prints on the walls with prices taped underneath them, large drywall columns that were decorated with sparkle pens and sharpie drawings and the seating consisted mostly of worn and overstuffed arm chairs and badly patched bean bags.

Bruce approached the counter while attempting to keep his appraisal of the shop to a minimum.

The boy behind the counter was beautiful, Bruce couldn’t help but notice, but damaged like most everything in Gotham was. He was very pale with hazel eyes and ink black hair. His facial features were finely carved, his cheekbones high and his eyebrows sharp and expressive. But, his black hair was shot through with white in one spot. Bruce would have thought that it was dyed if not for the scar running down from his scalp at the same place where the white started. The boy’s pale skin was marked all over with black ink, as well. Peeking out from the collar of his shirt was a thin black circle around his neck and his arms were almost fully covered with tattoos. If one of them was a soulmark, Bruce had no way to know.

“What can I do you for?” the boy drawled, his Gotham accent thick. Definitely a local, then.

“Soy venti latte,” Bruce replied back.

“Yes, sir,” the boy at the counter replied dryly.

“What was that?” Dick asked from his phone, which he had pressed close to his ear.

“I’m getting coffee. Do you want anything?” Bruce asked, turning away slightly from the handsome boy at the counter as he fished in his coat for his credit card.

Dick yawned hugely into his ear and Bruce had to resist a fond smile at his foster son’s charming lack of restraint. “No, thanks,” Dick replied, despite sounding exhausted. “I want to try and nap later and I won’t be able to sleep if I have caffeine now,” he explained.

Bruce took his card back from the young man behind the counter and then stood off slightly to the side to wait for his order to be completed.

“Long night?” Bruce asked Dick, sympathy and curiosity in his voice.

“Mm,” Dick hummed in response. Bruce heard rustling from the receiver and imagined Dick moving things around him on his small couch in his apartment while trying to get more comfortable. “End of term is coming up and I have, like, three papers due. It sucks. I’m ready for college to be ooooover,” Dick groaned over dramatically into Bruce’s earpiece.

Bruce couldn’t help but huff a laugh at his foster son. “You say that now, but I’m sure you won’t feel that way this summer.”

“I know,” Dick sighed, sounding resigned. “It’s just so much work right now. I’m looking forward to winter break.”

“Soy latte!” the barista called out as he sat a large steaming cup on the counter near Bruce. The boy didn’t stick around after putting down the cup, quickly bustling back behind the counter to clean up some of the mess around the stainless steel machines.

Bruce picked up the brown recyclable paper cup and took a sip without thinking. The coffee was hot and he knew immediately that he had just burnt off half the tastebuds on his tongue.

“Do you have any plans for winter break?” Bruce asked, while trying his best not to show his discomfort on his face.

“I dunno,” Dick responded uncertainly. “Are you still going to have Christmas at the manor?”

“Yes, just like every year. Alfred and I hope you’ll be there, but don’t feel obligated to come if there’s something else you’d like to do,” Bruce said carefully.

Dick laughed a little nervously. “You being nice will never stop being weird.”

Bruce fumbled in his pocket for a tip and grabbed the first two bills at hand. He barely paused before shoving both $20s into the jar on the counter and turning away quickly.

“I hope I’m not that terrible,” Bruce sighed into his phone, somewhat relieved when Dick laughed as if he had just told a funny joke.

As he stepped out of the shop, Bruce hoped that the barista didn’t notice it was him that dropped such a big tip. A $40 tip for a $4 coffee was probably a little exorbitant and the boy would more than likely believe him to just be a stuck up rich man from the northern limits and he wouldn’t be wrong. But in truth, he had always had a soft spot for beautiful broken things.

* * *

It was weeks before Jason saw the businessman again, long enough that he had almost completely forgotten about him.

It was freezing cold outside, the sky soft and gray, and the radio was calling for snow some time that night. Jason was manning the counter by himself like he did most mornings. Despite being a coffee shop, they didn’t get a huge amount of business between mid morning and the afternoon while most students were either still sleeping or attending class, so Jason was okay watching the shop by himself.

There were just a few people camped out at the tables and one guy who Jason was pretty sure was asleep on one of the bean bag chairs when the businessman came in again.

He was in a suit again, but what appeared to be a slightly more casual one than what he had worn before. He came into the shop and paused when he saw Jason behind the counter, like he was surprised or confused for a moment, before striding forward as if he hadn’t paused at all.

Jason readied himself to have an order barked at him, but instead the older man stopped at the small glass display case that had an array of doughnuts and pastries from a nearby bakery laid out inside of it. Jason raised his eyebrow at his. Stern older guys generally didn’t buy glazed doughnuts or orange scones out of the display case, not that Jason was judging. He had a huge sweet tooth himself and would gladly punch the lights out of anyone who was stupid enough to try and make fun of him for it.

“Could I have two of the glazed doughnuts and a caramel latte?” the man said, straightening up and ordering.

“Sure thing,” Jason replied mildly, “For here or to go?” he asked.

“To go,” the main replied.

Jason pulled a small brown bag out from underneath the counter at hearing this and moved to pick up the two doughnuts nearest the back.

“They’re for my foster son,” the man said.

Jason glanced up over the display case, paused in grabbing the pastries. He frowned at the businessman and the man looked back with a confused expression. Jason recognized it as an expression he had sometimes worn himself, the man being confused as to why he had decided to say anything at all.

“I don’t usually like sweets,” the man continued, trying to smooth over the moment into small talk. “But, my son, Dick, loves them. And, he’s mentioned that he likes this shop too. So, I just wanted to pick something up for him.”

“Well...” Jason said slowly, taking the time to pick up the two doughnuts he had been going for and also to mull over how to respond to this. He found it easy to banter with all the 20 something college kids who came into the shop and even the professors were pretty easy. But, Jason was definitely walking in the dark with it came to well to do businessmen from the north side of Gotham.

“The doughnuts are really good,” Jason settled on, sitting the small brown bag down on the counter. “We get them from the bakery down the street every morning fresh. Just a sec while I grab the latte,” Jason said, turning back toward the machines in the back to begin making the latte.

He squirted a few amber shots of caramel into the paper cup before filling about a quarter of the cup with a dark roast coffee.

“What does your son look like?” Jason asked over his shoulder. The businessman’s head jerked up too fast for him to look casual. “Maybe I’ve seen him, if he’s a regular,” Jason explained. Then, he effectively cut off all communication for a minute or two as he stuck the cup onto the steam wand and let it spit steamed milk enthusiastically and loudly into the cup.

Jason brought the cup back to the counter and popped a plastic lid and a cardboard cozy around the cup. By the time he was done the man looked composed and ready to reply.

“He’s about ye tall,” he said, holding his hand at about the height of his own eyebrows, “black hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. Always smiling,” he looked fond as he said so, breaking into a smile for the first time since Jason had seen him. It softened his whole face and made him look significantly younger.

Jason snapped his fingers and pointed, “He’s not a drama major, is he?” he asked, sure that the guy he was thinking of matched the description, but also feeling like it was a pretty generic description anyway, so what did he know.

The man pulled the same credit card out of an interior pocket of his coat and handed it to Jason who absentmindedly ran it through their card reader.

“In fact, he is. A senior,” the man replied, sounding a little impressed.

“Then, yeah, I definitely know that guy,” Jason said. He looked down doubtfully at the paper bag that contained the doughnuts. “Are you sure two is enough?” he asked, gesturing at the bag and looking at the man with a worried expression. He remembered how much that guy could eat from previous encounters.

The older man huffed a quiet laugh, smiling again, and took the bag and the steaming cup. “I don’t want to spoil him too much. Thank you, though.”

“Yeah, anytime,” Jason said faintly, but the man had already turned around and was moving out of the shop.

* * *

Bruce rode the elevator up the five flights to Dick’s floor with the warm cup of coffee and the bag of pastries in hand. The coffee warmed his cold fingers and Bruce idly hoped that he had picked the type of things that Dick liked. The realization had hit him too late that he could have asked the pretty barista boy what Dick normally ordered, seeing as he seemed familiar with him.

All in all, though, he had been glad he escaped the small shop when he did. Talking to the boy and talking to him about Dick had made him happy. In his previous experience, that kind of happiness could be dangerous and was best to be avoided.

He wasn’t sure why he had even struck up conversation in the first place. Obviously, the young man behind the counter had taken it as a queue to converse back. He was just being polite and being polite and friendly surely helped with tips.

His name tag had said ‘Jason’ in thick black letters.

The elevator dinged and Bruce stepped off onto Dick’s floor. The apartments were nice and the rent was fully paid by Bruce. He had insisted, when Dick had said he might come back to Gotham. Even so, he would have picked a much nicer apartment building, but Dick had insisted on this one. He had said he was glad to be so close to campus and, if Bruce would guess, probably seeing some other indefinable qualities he enjoyed that Bruce couldn’t understand.

Bruce walked down a narrow hallway lined with stained but clean carpet until he reached Dick’s door and knocked.

“Hey! Whoa, you brought offerings!” Dick exclaimed upon opening the door. He had been expecting Bruce, but Bruce hadn’t mentioned about stopping to get him breakfast. He was sure that Dick hadn’t eaten anything more sustaining than cereal so far that day.

Dick took both the coffee and the pastry bag off of Bruce’s hands and then stood aside so he could step into the apartment.

It was a mess, as usual, but didn’t look dangerously messy. There was a jacket thrown haphazardly over the back of Dick’s small couch and a gym bag half open and spilling its contents out by the door. The apartment obviously hadn’t been vacuumed in a while and there were books and take out containers covering the coffee table. Dick busied himself with trying to sweep most of the trash on the small table into a nearby trashcan and folded up whatever books he could.

“Take a seat!” Dick said, sweeping his arm wide to offer the beaten up and well worn couch the he had found somewhere, again Bruce could only guess.

“Thanks, but I can’t stay long. I just wanted to drop off some food before you go to your first class and also Alfred wanted me to deliver this.” Bruce drew a small envelope of thick textured paper from his coat pocket and held it out to Dick. It was a soft beige color with a bright green sticker holding the flap closed. In beautiful handwriting on the front was the name ‘Richard’. “I told him that invitations are quite unnecessary with just the three of us, but he insisted,” Bruce explained while Dick curiously turned the envelope over in his hands before opening it. “He can be quite set in his ways,” Bruce added.

Dick stared down at the invitation, hand lettered by the ever diligent Alfred, and his face froze. “Oh, uh...” he fumbled, his face now falling into a hangdog expression. “Shit, I forgot to tell you...”

Bruce felt his heart fall out of his chest and into his stomach as anticipation for what would come next hit him, but did his best not to let it show on his face.

Allowing himself to frown slightly, Bruce asked, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” Dick fumbled, looking embarrassed and extremely guilty. “It’s just that I agreed to do this intensive acting class over the winter holiday. There’s going to be some really important talent scouts who are going to be sitting in on the class and my professor hand selected me and he said it would be such a huge opportunity!”

“I understand,” Bruce said quietly. And, he did. It was important to him that Dick take every chance he could get to succeed.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it unless it was really important!” Dick continued as if he had not heard Bruce. “And, I had thought I must have told you I wasn’t sure if I would be able to go yet. But, I mean, of course me not saying no you assumed that I would go,” Dick said, smacking the palm of his hand against his forehead and leaving it there.

Bruce carefully drew the hand away from Dick’s forehead and placed his own hand there instead. Dick’s forehead felt warm and his hair still felt damp from the shower.

“I understand,” Bruce repeated and Dick leaned into Bruce’s hand like he needed his help just to stay upright. “I want you to pursue your future with vigor. I support you wholeheartedly. And, I know that you love Alfred and I. And, I know that, if this wasn’t very important, you would be spending the holidays with us.”

Bruce heard Dick sniff and did the gentlemanly thing and didn’t mention it.

“Thanks,” Dick said, his voice watery for a moment. “And, I really am sorry! I should have told you sooner!” Dick said vehemently, finally lifting his face to show Bruce his guilty expression.

“That’s all right,” Bruce said, smiling kindly. “I’ll break the news to Alfred gently.”

* * *

Because his boss was a slave driving asshole, the coffee shop stayed open on Christmas Eve.

“If that corporate machine across campus will be open, we’ll be open,” Ra’as had said, more emotion than Jason had seen in three months rising to his face.

Jason and Steph were the only two employees who weren’t going home for the holidays. Jason was a foster care kid, so he didn’t have a family to go back to. Steph wasn’t a foster care kid, but from what little Jason knew about about Steph’s home life, it wasn’t great.

Steph had taken the morning shift and Jason had agreed to take the closing shift. The traffic in the shop was so thin that they could man the shop by themselves.

It was snowing softly and the streets were totally deserted when Jason closed up that night. Everyone else had family or lovers to stay close to that night and Jason was doing his best not to think about it too hard.  He closed the front door, the bell jingling softly as he did so, and locked the door behind him.

Jason stood for a moment and shoved his hands into his pockets. The snow looked beautiful as it fell slowly through the light cast by the street lights. It was already starting to accumulate on the sidewalks and roads, covering up the dingy city streets in soft squeaky white snow.

As Jason looked around, he noticed a figure standing nearby. He was standing in shadow, which was why Jason hadn’t noticed him originally, to one side of the show and staring blankly across the street at nothing. It was the businessman, his breath ghosting out around his scarf.

“Hey, dude,” Jason said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “We’re closed for the night, but I can open back up if you need something,” Jason offered, jingling the keychain he still held in his gloved hand.

The man looked over at Jason with a blank look and Jason looked back nervously. He sort of regretted saying anything. Damn his good customer service instincts.

“I thought I might get a cup of coffee, but the lights were already off,” the man said, his voice sounding thin and hollow.

“Do you still want a cup?” Jason asked, hesitantly moving toward the door.

“No, that’s alright,” the man responded.

Jason jiggled his keys nervously in his hand and looked around. Thoughts were rattling around in his head and he was having trouble pinning down one to pay attention to.

The man shifted, “I’m sorry. I think this is what they call loitering. I’ll go,” he said.

“No, it’s fine!” Jason said quickly. “Let me guess. Nowhere to go on Christmas Eve?” he asked sympathetically.

The man stared back at him evenly, his face not giving anything away.

“I’m the same,” Jason said, not sure why any of this shit was coming out of his mouth. “So, you know, I’m not trying to rattle your cage or anything. But, uh, if you don’t have anywhere to go...”

Jason hesitated and his stumble was enough to push the older man into movement.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, stepping forward into the lamplight.

Jason’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Not since lunch. You buying?”

“Might as well,” the man responded, smirking back. “Bruce,” he said, proffering his hand.

Jason took his hand in his own and gave it a solid shake. “Jason,” he replied back. “Nice to meet ya’.”

* * *

The two of them ended up in a greasy diner in downtown near Jason’s apartment. It was one of those old silver bullet type diners that was shoved right up against a busy intersection with red upholstery and jukeboxes on the tables.

Bruce and Jason sat at a table in the far corner. The diner was empty except for one old man sitting at the counter.

“Do you attend Gotham University?” Bruce asked, stirring his coffee idly and not showing any interest in drinking it despite having supposedly waited outside in the cold for a cup.

“Yeah, one of the lost souls of the Literature department, if you can believe it,” Jason said with a grin.

“I believe it,” Bruce said evenly.

The smile dropped off of Jason’s face and he shifted nervously in his seat. The self-deprecation had been unconscious, so he wasn’t prepared for the compliment.

“Do you mind if I ask why you’re alone on Christmas Eve?” Jason asked awkwardly, taking a large sip of his hot chocolate.

Bruce stared back blankly, showing no intention of answering.

“I’ll go first,” Jason said quickly. “I’ve been in foster care since my teens, so I don’t have anyone to go home too. Boohoo. Your turn.”

Bruce continued to stare at him blankly and Jason took a deep drag on his hot chocolate and continued to hold eye contact.

Sighing deeply, the older man finally responded. “My relationship with my foster son is ... strained. He only just came back to the city this year and I was hoping we could spend Christmas together. But, something important came up with his school.”

Bruce rubbed a hand over his eyes and stared down at his coffee. “I understand and want him to focus on his schooling, but I can’t help but feel lonely. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t think so...” Jason said slowly. “I don’t know shit about parenting, but I know it must be hard to always have to put someone else’s feelings before your own.”

“It feels pathetic to complain about it to you,” Bruce said with a frown, finally looking up to meet Jason’s eyes.

“Don’t pity me,” Jason said, a warning in his tone.

“Never,” Bruce replied with a sharp smile. “I only meant that hearing it out loud sounds even worse than in my head.”

“You boys ready to order?” a tired looking waitress asked as she came up to the table.

“Yeah, can I get- Ah!” Jason yelped as he reached across the table to grab his menu and knocked over his still steaming hot chocolate.

“Careful!” Bruce cautioned, reaching across the table with a napkin to mop the hot chocolate from off of Jason’s stinging wrist.

As their skin met, Jason felt a hot rush of pleasure run up his arm and tighten around his neck. He jumped, yanking his arm back against his chest. Bruce stared at Jason with huge eyes, his fingers loosely wrapped around his own wrist.

“Are you okay, kid?” the waitress asked, sounding more confused by their odd expressions than concerned for Jason’s burnt wrist.

“Just the check, please,” Bruce said in a strained voice.

* * *

_ ‘What the hell am I doing?’ _ Bruce asked himself for the thousandth time as he let a young handsome barista lead him by the hand down a dark narrow alleyway. They were in a bad part of town, the part of town that the police take their time responding to calls from if they respond at all. The streetlights flickered and the particular alley they were in had no lights at all and was lined with overflowing garbage cans and the smell of decay.

They should be talking this through, Bruce thought, calmly and carefully learning about one another before they did anything reckless and hurt one another. He was much older than Jason, mature and level headed, so he thought he should be able to take control of the situation. So, why was he allowing himself to be lead back to Jason’s apartment without so much as a word in argument?

Jason’s hand was warm in his, his fingers calloused and tight around his own. He could see the white puffs of Jason’s breath coming fast in the cold air, his steps fast and harried.

“It’s this way,” Jason said, his voice slightly breathless.

Jason lead Bruce up a set of rusty metal steps until they reached a small scratched up white door. Jason fumbled for his keys, his hands shaking visibly and causing all the keys on the keychain to rattle against each other. There wasn’t much room on the small landing in front of the door, so Bruce’s chest was only a few inches away from Jason’s back. He put his hand over Jason’s and squeezed, trying to quell the shaking.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Bruce said softly, even though his entire body was thrumming with anticipation.

“I want to! I was the one who asked you,” Jason said forcefully. He pushed his key into the lock with a loud thunk, jerked it to the right and pushed the door open.

Jason wouldn’t have closed and locked the door behind them, but Bruce stopped them long enough to do it. He didn’t turn the light on either, so Bruce didn’t get a good look at the apartment, but he could tell it was tiny because it only took a handful of steps to cross into the bedroom.

“Touch me,” Jason said, his voice rough, kicking the door to his bedroom shut behind him.

Bruce complied, settling his hands on Jason’s hips, but otherwise staying still.

“I’ve heard that the first time you truly make a connection with your soulmate, the urge to touch can become ... intense,” Bruce said carefully.

Jason pressed his hands to either side of Bruce’s neck and pressed his mouth to Bruce’s chin. He hummed in affirmation and Bruce leaned down slightly so that they could kiss properly, but otherwise held Jason still by his grip on his hips.

“I just mean that I know what you’re feeling right now is intense because I feel it too. But, just because the feeling is strong, doesn’t mean you have to give in to it. I don’t want you to regret this later.”

At this, Jason paused and pulled back to stare into Bruce’s face.

The bedroom was lit only by a faint red light coming from a neon sign across the street. The light cut through the bent venetian blinds to slant across the small bedroom, a mussed bed, and the two men standing near the door.

Whatever Jason saw in Bruce’s expression made him frown and yank Bruce a little closer by his grip on his neck. “I won’t regret it,” Jason ground out, practically spitting the word ‘regret’. “Even if this turns into a shit show later, I won’t regret fucking my soulmate.”

Jason pressed kisses to Bruce’s jaw and the corner of his mouth. “After, we can sit around and talk about our hidden feelings and deepest secrets and shit, but right now,” Jason bit down hard on Bruce’s lower lip and Bruce grunted and yanked Jason’s hips forward until they were pressed together. “Right now, my cock is so fucking hard and I just want you to fuck me.”

Bruce took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to hold onto his self control, but it was slipping fast. Electricity was racing under his skin, fed every time his skin touched Jason’s. And the feeling of Jason’s sharp narrow hips clenched between his hands, the feeling of him straining to reach up and press his lips against his all tried his patience. He knew Jason was strong, could feel it in the solid muscle shifting beneath his hands, but he also knew he had a few inches and quite a few pounds on him. The urge to pick him up and have his way with him was overwhelming.

“I can feel you fighting it,” Jason breathed against his neck. There was a plaintive tone in his voice as he pressed himself against Bruce from knee to shoulder. “I can feel you fighting it and I don’t want you to.”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and his hands tight around Jason’s hips, his hands digging into pale flesh. He felt like a wire with only so much strength fraying under the sound of Jason’s words, of the smell of his hair, the feel of his skin.

In a sudden whir of movement, Bruce turned the two of them around and gave Jason a hard shove backward.

* * *

Jason gasped as he was pushed backward by his hips to land with a bounce on his own bed. He looked up with a surprised expression at Bruce.

He was still standing at the foot of the bed, shrugging out of his long overcoat and letting it pool on the ground. Jason quickly shucked his leather jacket and tossed it off the side of the bed so it wouldn’t be in the way.

Bruce toed off his shoes, probably damaging the expensive leather, and crawled onto the bed on hands and knees to straddle Jason.

Jason had been honored (honored was probably the closest word he would find to the feeling) that Bruce was so careful with him. It showed that he had a moral code, one that specifically applied to fucking people younger or in a less advantageous position than him. Jason wasn’t sure which it was, but he was glad to know he had morals at all. It was something he had always valued in himself and others. But, at just that moment, Bruce’s morals had been getting in the way so Jason had done his best to get Bruce to put them aside.

Judging by the determined and slightly scary look in Bruce’s eyes, Jason had definitely succeeded. And, it had been what he wanted, so why did he feel his stomach clenching in a mixture of fear and anticipation at the sight of such a huge man with such a determined expression advancing on him?

Bruce loosened his tie until he could finally pull the whole thing off over his head before leaning down to capture Jason’s mouth with his own. Bruce’s lips were thin and hard, but he kissed like he was trying to swallow Jason whole. Preferably by turning him into a gooey mess via passionate kissing and then drinking him up through a straw, if Jason had to guess.

Moaning, Jason grabbed a thick handful of Bruce’s hair and tugged, tumbling both of them until they were lying on the bed. Bruce’s impressive weight landed partially on Jason’s chest and the feeling of being pinned sent a shot of pleasure through him.

After a few long minutes of aggressive kissing that had Jason’s head spinning, Bruce broke the kiss to growl, “Take off your clothes.”

Jason hurried to comply, yanking his thermal shirt over his head and quickly popping the fly on his pants. He hadn’t been lying when he said his cock was hard, so it was a little precarious trying to shimmy out of his worn black jeans and shuck his underwear at the same time without hurting his already swollen dick.

Bruce was working to do the same, undoing the buttons on his shirt impatiently and then pulling his undershirt off over his head once his button down was off.

After they were both fully undressed, Bruce ran an appreciative hand down Jason’s chest, his eyes hungry as he took him in finally completely nude. Jason felt self conscious, possibly for the first time in his entire life. He knew he looked good. He was proportioned nicely, he worked out and he didn’t have any serious skin problems. No boy or girl had ever left his bed with anything bad to say about him or his performance. But, even knowing all that, Bruce’s appraising gaze left him terrified that he would find something wrong, something out of place. That maybe, without his clothes on, Bruce would be able to see him how he really was and would reject him.

Instead, he heard him breath, “Beautiful,” before leaning down to attach his mouth to the side of Jason’s neck.

Jason hummed in his throat and tilted his head to the side, letting Bruce suck and bite bruises all along his soulmark. It sent little jolts of pleasure up to the base of his skull every time Bruce pulled at the skin with his teeth or licked over a new bruise with a rough tongue.

Bruce ran his hands up and down Jason’s torso, pettings his flanks first, then moving up to press hard into his nipples. Jason let out an embarrassing sound and his back arched away, his nipples sensitive. He didn’t play with them himself and rarely met a partner that wanted to, so he wasn’t used to such rough treatment.

“Did you like that?” Bruce rumbled, detaching his mouth from Jason’s neck long enough to take in his expression.

Jason didn’t respond, but his face was flushed and his chest was heaving so Bruce read between the lines and pressed his thumbs into Jason’s nipples again. Again, Jason cried out and shied away.

By this point, Jason’s cock was leaking against his stomach. He wanted badly to touch it, but was afraid if he did he would come with hardly any provocation. He was starting to feel overwhelmed, even though they hadn’t really done anything yet. He wondered if it was because Bruce was his soulmate and could only think that had to be it.

“Do you have lube?” Bruce asked, rubbing his thumb gently over Jason’s nipples. It was probably supposed to be soothing, but it was making Jason squirm.

“Mm,” Jason grunted, shimmying out of Bruce’s grasp so that he could lean over the edge of the bed and rummage around underneath. Jason didn’t exactly keep an orderly house, so the lube didn’t have a particular place it belonged. Even so, Jason was pretty sure he had seen it roll under the bed the last time he used it.

After rummaging around for a little while, he finally returned with a small clear bottle with a logo printed on the side. He handed it to Bruce who examined it for a brief moment before smiling crookedly at Jason.

“Fuckwater?” he asked, shaking the small bottle in his hand.

Jason colored slightly but refused to be embarrassed. “It’s a good brand! I’m sorry you don’t get around enough to have heard of it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Bruce replied with the same smile, not addressing the second part of Jason’s statement. “Now, roll over. On your hands and knees.”

Jason flushed even more to hear that. It was an order, no please or thank you attached to it in anyway, and normally that would rile him up like nothing else. But, that night, for whatever reason, he was 1,000 % down for it.

Slowly, keeping his eyes on Bruce, Jason moved onto his hands and knees. He could feel his face heating and, only when it occurred to him that Bruce might see his blush, he turned to face forward. He was presenting himself to Bruce, asking to be fucked. He had done this before with other guys and even earlier he had verbally asked Bruce to fuck him, so he didn’t understand why this would bother him. Since when did he become such a blushing virgin?

Jason didn’t have long to linger on those kinds of thoughts, as he heard the top of the bottle pop shortly after he had gotten into position. Bruce squirted a fair amount of the lube onto his index finger and then carefully rubbed it between Jason’s asscheeks. They both shivered.

“Have you done this before?” Bruce asked and, if Jason wasn’t mistaken, his voice had dropped an octave. Jason wasn’t even sure how that was possible, Bruce’s voice was already so deep.

“Yeah,” Jason forced out. “A few times.” He was nervous as soon as he said it. Was that the wrong thing to say? Did Bruce want to be his first?

“Good,” Bruce replied, quickly putting Jason’s fears to rest. “That will make this a little easier,” he said and began to rub at the pucker of Jason’s ass with a firm hand.

Jason sighed and let his head fall. Bruce held Jason still with one hand grasping his asscheek while the other worked at his hole. He didn’t do assplay often, but he did do it and had done it just a few weeks ago, which made the going a lot easier and faster for the both of them.

Bruce rubbed the pad of his finger against Jason’s asshole over and over until the tight ring of muscle relaxed and started to give on each pass. Once he felt the give, Bruce pressed his finger inside in one fluid movement that had Jason moaning and arching his back.

“Good?” Bruce asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Good,” Jason confirmed back, surprised to find his voice sounded breathless too.

Bruce began to work his finger in and out of Jason, waiting until it moved in and out smoothly without resistance before starting to add a second finger. At the second finger Jason started to feel a burn that he knew signaled the stretching part. Bruce kept his thrusts careful and even, his free hand massaging Jason’s ass while he did so. The even pace and the additional touch helped to distract Jason from the burn of the stretching and helped everything go a lot faster.

Before Jason realized it, Bruce was working three fingers in and out of his ass and Jason was trembling, his dick starting to hurt now from being hard for so long.

“Ready,” Jason breathed, his voice wrecked but he was too far gone to care. “I’m so ready. Please, fuck me,” he begged.

“All right,” Bruce grunted, getting up on his knees. He rubbed the blunt end of his cock against Jason’s ass, the head pulling on the stretched out entrance of Jason’s ass and causing him to moan and twitch. Bruce paused, his body going stiff, and Jason looked up over his shoulder.

“Condom,” Bruce said, “Do you-?”

Jason groaned and not in the sexy way. “Dude, I don’t care. Just stick it in me!” he moaned.

“It’s not safe,” Bruce started, his voice starting to take on a clear ‘dad’ tone that Jason assumed he probably had picked up from years taking care of his foster son.

“Hey!” Jason said sharply. “I don’t have any plans to fuck anyone else but you from here on out. Are you planning to fuck other people?” Jason asked, glaring over his shoulder. Bruce was lucky his dick was so fucking hard or he would have lost his hard on from having this kind of conversation in the middle of sex.

“No,” Bruce said quietly. “No other plans.”

And with no more to do, he pressed his dick into Jason’s ass and began moving slowly and indelibly forward. Jason made a small cut off sound in the back of his throat and felt his elbows go out. His head hit the bed with a soft thump. Bruce kept pushing, leaning up over Jason until he was fully buried inside him, his hand resting on the nape of Jason’s neck and holding him down.

“Fuck, yes, please,” Jason moaned, his thighs trembling and his cock definitely painfully hard again.

“You feel so good,” Bruce breathed above him. He squeezed the hand that was on Jason’s neck and Jason squeezed his ass around Bruce in return. Bruce gasped.

“I’m going to fuck you hard now,” Bruce warned.

“Yes, please, fuck me so hard,” Jason muttered into the comforter.

Bruce grabbed Jason by his hips and pulled almost the whole way out, just the head of his dick holding him inside of Jason before pushing in hard and fast and drawing a small yelp out of Jason. Bruce fucked Jason hard, hard enough to force him back up onto his elbows on the bed, his thrusts moving Jason back and forth even as he kept up a litany of encouragement.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please, fuck me, yes, fuck me,” Jason babbled, his eyes closed as Bruce rammed into him, the feeling of friction and of being so full building up a well of pleasure in his cock and lower belly.

Bruce was grunting above him, the sound just barely audible over the sound of their skin slapping together wetly. He moved his hand uncertainly, at one point, to the small of Jason’s back. Then, to his ass, holding his asscheek aside so that he could watch himself fuck Jason’s ass. Then, after a moment of consideration, Bruce raised his hand and slapped Jason’s ass.

“Ah!” Jason cried out, his head snapping up and his eyes flying open. The slap had surprised him, but not in a bad way.

“Okay?” Bruce asked uncertainly.

“Do that again,” Jason said breathlessly, looking over his shoulder at Bruce with large surprised eyes.

Bruce has only lightly slapped Jason before, so this time he raised his hand much higher and came down much harder. Jason cried out again, louder this time, and squeezed down hard on Bruce’s dick making him groan.

“Good. Felt good,” Jason moaned, moving back to ride Bruce’s dick after he had paused in fucking him. “Keep going,” Jason said, still moving backward and forward on Bruce’s dick.

Bruce did just that, grabbing Jason by the hips again and starting up his punishing pace. Jason’s noises got louder, his breathing coming faster. Bruce slapped Jason’s ass and each time Jason would yelp and clench down hard on his dick.

“Coming,” Jason gasped, the build up finally becoming too much. He was going to come untouched. “I’m coming.”

“Good boy,” Bruce grunted out. “Come for me.”

* * *

 

Jason shifted nervously beside Bruce on the front step of Wayne Manor.

After fucking exuberantly the entire night, when morning sunlight began to break through the blinds they had finally fell asleep together. And, after waking up some time a few hours after noon, Bruce had hurriedly encouraged Jason to dress and accompany him back home.

Bruce had helped Jason search his small and messy apartment for what he called a ‘nice outfit’. What he had eventually settled on was a black turtleneck that hid most of his tattoos and his soulmark along with some mostly not ripped black jeans and a pair of beat up black boots. He wore a red hoodie with a black leather jacket over that and had knitted black gloves on his hands to try and keep the chill out of his fingers. Bruce had put on his clothes from the previous day and had tried to explain that Alfred wouldn’t care about his appearance, but Jason wouldn’t hear it.

Before Bruce could open the door, an elderly man with a shred expression in an impeccably tailored and pressed suit opened it.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted him with a mild expression that told Bruce everything he needed to know about how much trouble he was in for staying out all night without telling Alfred where he would be. “And, who is your friend?” Alfred asked, turning his mild stare to a fidgeting Jason.

Bruce squeezed Jason’s hand where it was held tightly in his.

“Alfred,” he said with a warm smile. “There’s been a change of plans.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! If you'd like to request more or see what other stuff I'm working on or whatever, you can follow me on tumblr at tumblr.com/ipicklethings


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